


find me at bottom of the bottle

by plinys



Series: abc au challenge [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His fingers circle loosely around her wrist, “I didn’t use to always be like this.”</p><p>“What were you like?”</p><p>“A hero.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	find me at bottom of the bottle

**Author's Note:**

> So this is for my abc au challenge, with B being for "Bar".
> 
> And because I wanted to play with the characters a bit this is in an MCU au, so it features the characters set in a sort of Bar AU and the MCU verse, if that makes any sense.

i.

“It’s not my job to pick you back up again,” she says, even though this is the fourth time this week that she’s had to walk him home. An arm slung over her companion in a meager help to steady him, Clint sways ever so slightly in her hold contrary to her help.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says.

They’ve had this conversation before. Some many times that Kate had long since lost count. He’s going to insist that she should leave him to die, let him stumble back to his apartment on his own, that if she knew what was good for her she would stay away.

Her friends say about the same thing, every time she waves one of them off, slipping out from behind the counter at _The Bar_ to help Clint home again.

She was the only one that could make sure he actually got there, the only one that knew what code to punch it outside the building or where he kept the spare key, and the only one that would remember to fill up Lucky’s water bowl after she dumped Clint on the couch.

When the process is completely once again, and he’s there, passing out on that awful purple couch, that when he says it, “One of these day, you’re going to get sick of me.”

He’s out before she can think of a proper answer.

 

ii.

It takes two days before Clint’s back again, faithfully showing up just as her Monday evening shift starts. The Bar’s usually empty on Mondays, so there’s no possibly way she could miss him, sliding up to the bar and ordering something strong.

 By the time she’s slipped out from the back, Eli has already gotten Clint’s drink out for him, but the shot of tequila sits in front of him undrunk.

“You just gonna stare at it,” she asks.

When he looks up at her, their eyes meeting for a long moment, she knows this is what he was waiting for.

He downs the shot a second later.

“Thanks for the other night, Katie-Kate,” he says, just as he’s said plenty of times before.

“Don’t mention it,” she replies, same as always.

 

iii.

His fingers circle loosely around her wrist, “I didn’t use to always be like this.”

“What were you like?”

“A hero.”

 

iv.

She feels like an idiot when she types _‘Clint’_ and _‘Superhero’_ into Google, and predictably doesn’t get any result that makes sense of his vague drunken mumblings.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she had expected, most superheroes – people with _powers_ – didn’t publically reveal themselves for the world to know. Secret identities were definitely a thing.

With the exception of the very obvious Tony Stark, and even the Iron Man himself had gone out of fashion by now. Superheroes had wrecked New York and countless other cities, the government organization that had been helped them turned out to be Nazis and well – all of that was years ago.

Kate had been a kid back then, and maybe for a few moments entertained the idea of superheroes, but it had been years since anything significant happened.

She mentions it to Teddy the next time they’re working, and watches as his hand freezes in the middle of scrubbing the bar. His features tight, eyes darting around The Bar as if looking for something, for _someone_.

“They don’t exist,” he says after a moment. “Not any more.”

And she nods her head in reply, “But what if before-“

“Clint Barton’s not a superhero. He’s just some drunk that wants in your pants.”

She’s never known Teddy to be so direct.

 

v.

“I’m getting off early tonight,” Kate says, even though she’s supposed to be on till midnight.

She watches the way Teddy’s eyes linger on Clint sitting at the end of the bar. He’s barely on his second drink, not ready for her to walk him home yet again.

“Already?”

“I have some things I need to do.”

She walks out of the bar and into the cold night air without looking back.

 

vi.

“How did you find my apartment?”

“I’m resourceful,” Clint says, standing outside her doorway.

She’s not sure she had ever seen him this sober. They’re standing close enough that she can see the blue in his clear eyes. Finally Kate moves, expanding the space between them to gesture to the inside of her apartment.

It’s sparsely decorated, basically a mess, because neither Kate nor her roommate America care for cleaning this place up. She watches as Clint takes it in, the punching bag on the floor by the couch, the extremely patriotic coffee mugs, her bow from high school hug up on the wall like a painting would’ve bene in any proper apartment – he eventually goes for a clean coffee mug, helping himself to a cup without her even offering.

“You know, he didn’t actually look like this,” Clint says, bringing the cup (one from her roommates Captain America collection) up to his lips. “He was a lot less… _stern_.”

“You know Captain America?”

“Knew,” He corrects, “It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got all morning.”

 

vii.

She wonders what someone else would’ve done in her situation.

Maybe they would’ve begged him to train her, or to put down the bottle and get back in the fight.

She does neither of those things.

 

viii.

Kissing Clint Barton is not like anything she had expected.

For one, he tastes like coffee instead of whatever is on tap at the bar.

She’s not sure how she feels about that.

So she kisses him again in case things start to make sense.

 

ix.

She makes him take her shooting, because it’s the principal of the thing, and being out of practice is no excuse.

“I’ll never let you live it down if you lose to me,” Kate says, notching an arrow. “I mean, I may have gotten a varsity letter in this but that was years ago whereas you apparently shot down aliens so-“

“So, I have to beat you?”

“Oh no, I’m still going to beat you, but you at least have to try, otherwise it isn’t a fair fight.”

He laughs at her. It’s the first time she’s heard him laugh and she finds suddenly that she likes it, a lot better than any other laugh that she’s heard before.

There’s something about Clint that’s drawn her to him, since the very first day she showed up at The Bar, asking for her to keep the drinks coming.

Clint Barton is fascinating.

Simply put.

“Now, come on, and when it’s all over, I’ll buy you a pity beer.”

“You sure it won’t be the other way around, Katie-Kate?”

 

x.

“This one’s on the house,” Kate says, placing a drink down in front of him.

She watches as his fingers drum against the side of the glass, before his eyes lift up, a small grin on his face. Like she and him are privy to some sort of secret.

 And perhaps they are.  

 

 

 


End file.
